“Today’s post, my lord,” Enfield said.
Carlisle took the single letter. “This is all?”
“Yes, my lord,” the butler said before turning on his heel and walking out of the parlor.
Carlisle’s simmering rage was beginning to boil over. He’d been back in London for three weeks, since the middle of March, and instead of being inundated with invitations to various events as he had been in past years, he’d been relegated to accepting invites he would never have considered in previous Seasons.
What was going on?
Where were his usual invitations to events held by thehaut ton?
He had no idea what had changed this year… unless someone had caught wind of his precarious finances and was sharing that information throughout theton. He’d thought it a well-guarded secret, but perhaps not as well hidden as he thought? Nothing stayed secret from London’s prying gossipers for long. Sooner or later, all was revealed, no matter how hard one tried to hide it. He wasn’t the first lord to have to marry for money, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. He just didn’t like the fact that his business could be widely known so early in the Season.
His title and good looks—dark hair, strong jaw, and startling green eyes—had always served him well in the past. Women threw themselves at his feet, but there’d been a subtle shift in his reception at events this past year ever since he had tried to deliberately compromise Lady Courtney Darkin forcing her to marry him. Could that one failed misstep be more well known than he’d realized? There was no overt gossip about him, not that he’d heard anyway. There was also nothing on the betting books at Whites, so what was going on?
The premier event this week was Lady Tisbury’s dinner party in three days. Everyone who was anyone vied for one of those invites. Her dinner parties were legendary, and this dinner was the official start of the Season. Carlisle needed to meet the new debutants and find one with a large dowry to shore up his dwindling funds and the Tisbury dinner was an excellent place to start his search.
His financial situation was growing more desperate by the day. He was nearly out of funds—funds he’d stolen from his sister’s dowry and his estate’s coffers. His Country Seat, Meridian Manor, was crumbling from neglect. He needed an influx of cash and fast. He couldn’t afford a long engagement and wanted to choose a potential wife soon, but he needed to be invited to the besttonevents to find her. He didn’t care if she was a witty conversationalist or a timid mouse; all he wanted was a fat dowry immediately available to him. He planned to bed his wife, get an heir and a spare, and then park her in the country so he could continue to live the life of a pampered lord.
He stormed out of the parlor and down the hall to his office. The invitation he’d received today was to attend a musicale at Lord and Lady Gladstone’s manor tomorrow evening. The Gladstones were minortonand not part of the upper echelon he usually associated with. Their daughter only had a modest dowry, and he needed so much more than modest. Once at his desk, he pulled out a piece of paper and picked up his quill. It was time to get to the bottom of his unexpected isolation.
Dear Lady Tisbury,
I look forward to seeing you once again this Season. However, I fear there is a slight problem. My dinner invitation for Saturday next must have gotten waylaid, for I have not received it as of yet.
Carlisle
He sanded the note before folding it and affixing his seal, then rang the bellpull. Enfield entered his study within moments.
“My lord, you wish something?”
“Yes. I want this note delivered to Lady Tisbury posthaste and wait for a reply.”
“Of course. I’ll send a footman immediately.”
The footman soon returned and handed Enfield Lady Tisbury’s reply. Enfield brought the note to Carlisle. “Will there be anything else?” Enfield asked.
Carlisle shook his head and tore open the reply. A single line was all she wrote.
There was no mistake made.
“That bitch!” Carlisle said as he threw the note into the fireplace. How dare she exclude him? He was an earl not some fresh-faced second or third son.
Chapter 2
MISS VIOLET BAINBRIDGE SAT PATIENTLYwhile her maid finished dressing her hair for the evening. She wanted to look her best tonight. They were attending a dinner party at Lady Tisbury’s townhouse as the unofficial start of her Season. She was to be presented to the queen tomorrow, and then she would be allowed to attend all manner of activities, including balls, teas, soirees, and musicales. London was daunting for a girl from the country, and her nerves were on edge. She hoped Lord Alesbury would be in attendance this evening. She’d met him last fall but hadn’t seen him over the winter. Would he be back in London for the Season? She sighed as she thought of the handsome viscount.
A knock on her door startled her. “Come.”
Lady Edgerton, her sister-in-law and dearest friend, swept into the room. “Violet, you look lovely,” Courtney said. They’d become dear friends last fall when their mothers had renewed their friendship after years apart. She was beyond thrilled when Courtney and her brother, Charles, had fallen in love and married. Now her dearest friend was truly her sister and someone she could confide in.
“Thank you. I’m so glad you and Charles will be with me tonight. I want to continue to enjoy Lady Tisbury’s kind regard and not make any missteps this evening. You know how influential she is in theton.”
“That she is. She has many influential friends in Society, and her niece married the Duke of Wetherby two years past. Her negative opinion can ruin a young woman’s chances on the marriage mart before an evening is over.” Courtney chuckled. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re nervous? Might it not be because a certain lord will also be in attendance?”
Violet felt heat flush her face. “Truly? I do hope Lord Alesbury will attend. He’s so handsome, don’t you think?”
Courtney nodded. “He is indeed, and more importantly, Charles has a high opinion of him.”
